


Caring for a beast

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sickness, TLC, Whump, requests welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Oneshots in which our dear prince is sick or injured and the other characters look after him. Requests welcome.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This episode is set before the curse

When he was like this, Mrs Potts was reminded of how he'd been as a boy, of the gentle soul he used to be.

 

Her master had been bright, curious, peaceful and loving before his mother died. He had been an intelligent and kind boy, who wanted nothing more than to know, to please his parents and just enjoy everything that life had to offer. He'd been an incredbly curious baby and toddler, and had grown into a talented, promising boy.

 

There had been no malice, no arrogance, no ill will. Just a nice young boy with a whole life to live. And then everything went wrong. That man that called himself his father had twisted him, turned him into something he never had been, hurt him deeply and in many ways. The man he'd become was far from that bright-eyed lad she'd cared for so much.

 

Now he'd become arrogant, vain and incredibly self-centered. A man full of flaws, who treated others like objects, toys to do his bidding, much like his father had, not that long ago. He'd become a dark shadow of who he was supposed to be, hid his pain and melancholy under a façade of shallowness and gratuituous cruelty.

 

Many of them had grown to loathe him, despite the affection they once felt for him. It was sad, but all of them have drifted away, and had become cold towards the master, even herself in more than one occasion. It was hard to see anything good under all those layers of disdain and unkindness. Some of them had already given up the hope of there being anything pure left in their master.

 

But it was moments like these that proved them wrong.

 

The master had been quiet and withdrawn that morning, but they hadn't paid much attention to it. The staff generally enjoyed those days, because when he was in a talking mood he was often unpleasant towards them. If he didn't want to speak, then it was better for them.

 

Nobody noticed that apart from the silence, his movements were slower, and his hands shook ever so slightly. Nobody noticed that he'd gone a couple of shades paler, that he'd asked only for a tea for breakfast and left it nearly untouched. Nobody had cared enough to see how sick he was until he fainted in the main hall, almost without making a sound.

 

He stayed unconscious for a worryingly long while, and a physician was called. The master was placed in his enormous bed, feverish and not exactly aware of where he was and what was happening. The doctor diagnosed an infection of some type, and sent one of the servants to get some medicine. In the mean time, it was Mrs Potts' job to look after the prince.

 

And right then, he saw him again, the boy she'd missed. With all of his defenses down, completely vulnerable, the prince seemed almost glad to see her, and drew a shy smile when she brought him a cup of tea. His eyes were glassy and unfocused because of the fever, his hands shook too much to be able to hold the cup. She could hear his laboured breathing, that was occasionally interrupted by coughs.

 

He was too weak, too sick to pretend anymore. And suddenly, Mrs Potts saw more of him, of the real him, the boy who still lived. She could see in his eyes, those terribly expressive blue pools, that he wasn't really happy in that pretentious life, no matter how much he claimed to be. He saw in his gratitude that there was still good in him, despite the way he acted. He saw in his confusion traces of the innocence she thought lost in him.

 

“Mrs. Potts?”

 

“Yes, dear?”

 

“I don't feel good.”

 

“I know, but don't you worry, master, we will look after you and you will be perfectly fine in no time.”

 

There he was again, the boy with no mask, the angel he used to be, back with her. Maybe there was hope for him yet, for all of them.

 

Over the course of the next days, she tended to his fever, delicately cleaning his too-warm forehead, as he let her, only letting out soft moans of complaint. She made some more tea, and gave him what the doctor had brought from the apothecary, hoping for an improvement. Then he started vomiting blood and his fever got worse, and everyone forgot his grievances and worried, hoping the master would pull through.

 

Nobody knew exactly what ailed him, and Mrs Potts feared it could be what had taken the boy's mother. She feared that he would never get better, and that this was the end of his way. Too short a life, and a big part of it obscured by his father's poisonous influence and his own terrible decisions. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair.

 

Mrs Potts looked into those hazy blue eyes and asked for a miracle. The master mistook her for his mother and she didn't correct him. She just caressed his face and sang lullabies, stayed with him when the pain was too much, changed the sheets when necessary. Wishing she wouldn't have to, anymore. Even if the man that came back was mean and conceited, she preferred him to this sweet but nearly lifeless version of himself.

 

No matter what had happened between them, she hated seeing the prince in pain, suffering like that.

 

Fortunately, she got her wish, and the master recovered after some days in which his future seemed uncertain. The shy smiles and the small voice were gone, and he was back to his pompous ways. But Mrs Potts had seen him, the real him underneath it all, under that mask he wore, and she wouldn't forget that his good heart was still there, somewhere, beating and waiting to freed form that trap he created for himself.

 

Some day, they would have him back, she knew. They just had to wait, for the right moment, the right act, the right person to come. Somebody that could see who he really was inside, and could bring it back. And when that day came, she would be there offering a cup of tea.

 

For now, she was just glad to know that the dear blue eyed boy she cared for was in there somewhere. There was hope. And with hope and some tea, and all could be fixed.

 

All was possible.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after the curse is broken. :)

Belle always got bit more scared than she should when he got sick, no matter how unimportant his sickness or injury was. If it was somebody else, she probably would tell them than a couple of night of rest would fix that, to be strong and not whine so much about it. But with her prince it was different, so so different.

 

She had watched him die, he had persihed in her arms, stopped brething, stopped moving, stopped existing nearly. She'd seen the light go out of his beautiful blue eyes, seen him go completely still, noticed how he wasn't there anymore. For a moment that probably wasn't long but felt like an agonic century for her, he was gone and he was not coming back. Belle had never been so sad in her life, never been overcome by such grief. It had changed her and it had definitely changed her relationship with him.

 

In her eyes, he was more fragile than anyone else, vulnerable, breakable. Precious. She was painfully aware of how delicate his life was and how much it would hurt if she lost for good. And because of all of that, she was a bit overbearing when he was sick and tried to avoid him getting sick at all costs.

 

But of course, she couldn't control everything, much less the forces of nature, and he did get sick from time to time. Like that week, in which Adam in which a simple upset stomach had made him sick for days, and Belle, of course, started worrying.

 

“You are still unwell.” She stated, knowing that if she just asked he would deny it, not wanting to worry her.

 

She was supposed to go to visit her dad to the village that day, but didn't want to his side while he was still sick.

 

“It's nothing to worry about. This illness is just lingering a bit more than usual. Nothing I can't handle.”

 

It was puzzling, not just how long it was lasting, but it's origin too. This sickness seemed to have come out of nowhere, as even though it had attacked mainly the stomach, it couldn't come from food in bad state, as Belle had the same meals as him and wasn't sick. But he had, and so very suddenly.

 

It was a morning when everything seemed to be spinning around, the whole world, the bed, the room, even when he was lying perfectly still. His whole being was overcome by nausea and he hardly made it on time to a washing room before the inevitable happened. He spent most of that day in bed, eating nothing but some soothing tea, looking melancholically at the window. He tried to read, but the words danced and swam in front of him, and his head hurt.

 

But Belle was there to keep him company, which was nice. She could have been out there jumping in the sun, but decided to stay close, to let him know that she was there for better or worse. He told her that she didn't need to, that he would call for help if he needed it, but she wouldn't leave. They spoke about some things, about commitments and appointments, about the castle and its inhabitants, about books, about anything and everything.

 

Other times they were just in silence, maybe in the bed, maybe in a hall, Belle with her head on his shoulder, or just caressing his cool hands. They were good like that, without the need to speak, without anyone else. She liked to feel his presence, she liked to hear his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest. But now, like this, she couldn't enjoy their time together, not when there was something hurting him and she couldn't stop it. She tried concentrate on her reading and couldn't. Tried not to worry and couldn't.

 

For once, she felt afraid and hated it. She'd never been a woman who scared easily, she was bold, she was valiant, she didn't cower. But in those moments...When she saw him sway as he tried to walk, when she saw the colour drain from his face, every time she noticed something off, she was scared. And sure, she'd read a couple of books on medicine and identifying illnesses, but they were all inaccurate at best and every symptom had a different interpreation and a different cure in each things she read.

 

But she did her best to make everything as comfortable as possible, to ease his hurt, make him forget that he hurt, even if she herself couldn't forget it. She brought all sorts of teas, and tried every home remedy she remembered from the village. She made sure he rested, and nothing would disturb him, distract him from getting better. Two days passed, and then three and still, he wasn't improving enough and it was driving Belle mad. There was no way he could go to the village like this.

 

“What's wrong?” There was his voice, asking her, taking her out of her reverie.

 

“I want you to be fine.”

 

“I will be fine.”

 

“I want you to be fine NOW. And always. You've suffered enough.”

 

“You don't have to worry.”

 

“I will always worry. Come, let us go back to the bed. I am not going anywhere until you are fine. I wasn't going to be able to pay attention to Papa, anyways.”

 

“But Belle...”

 

She directed a look to him that left no room for discussion.

 

His steps were slower than usual, his breathing heavier. He hadn't eaten hardly anything for three days and the prince was feeling faint and so he needed her help to get to his destination, but Belle didn't mind. They lay on the bed again, on top of the covers, facing each others, deep in an embrace.

 

“I'm sorry about worrying you.” He said, soft.

 

“I'm sorry about being too worried. It's just...I don't want to lose you again. Ever. You're not allowed to go.”

 

“Then I'll stay here.”

 

“Forever.”

 

“Forever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best, but hope you liked. Thanks for reading! There should be more with Belle, 'cos she's the best.
> 
> Thanks so much for the comments and kudos on the first! You guys are the best! Keep 'em coming, please!
> 
> You know you want to comment :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle taking caring of the prince after the incident with the wolves, as requested :)

 

She could leave now, go back to her dad, go back home, where there weren't any murderous wolves, no talking furniture, and no beasts who held people prisoner and freaked out over magic roses. She could go back to her life, embrace her father, not be in constant danger all the time. The path was free, and calling her.

 

She owed nothing to this man, this beast who had incarcerated her father, an innocent passerby and then her, for no apparent reason. Just becuase he was mean and did not appreciate anyone passing near his castle. This... person had treated them all horribly and should probably be brough to justice for inappropriate detainment or something of the sort.

 

By all accounts, she shouldn't feel bad about leaving him there. But then she looked at him as he wavered and he looked at her – and something clicked, something changed. Time stopped for a moment while he was looking at her, and she at him. Those blue eyes, icy cold and cruel up until that moment were suddenly full of pain, vulnerable, needing help.

 

For the first time, she thought she glimpsed an actual person inside that beast, a soul, someone capable of feelings, someone with a heart. It wasn't enough to make her think twice about leaving. Saving her from wolves and being capable of having feelings didn't make up for what he'd done to her and her father. He would manage on his own and she would leave, never looking back, leaving that nightmare behind.

 

But then the beast fell in a dead faint and her resolve swayed. Now she wasn't so sure that he could make it on his own, but being so badly injured. Maybe the wolves had hurt him too much. And there injuries he'd got helping her, protecting her. Why he'd chosen that moment to help her she didn't know, but however horrible his ways had been so far, she couldn't couldn't leave him on the snow, her conscience didn't allow it.

 

He could die if she didn't help him so she made the difficult choice and helped him get on Philippe and so all three of them slowly made their way to the castle. She had a feeling that she wouldn't get another chance like this, but she would never forgive herself if she left him to die there, specially after having saved her life.

 

He moved heavily and slowly, it was quite clear that the wolves had done a lot of damage. Getting him to his was equally slow and painful looking and everything was done in silnce except for some low moans and quiet mutterings. She had come back, and she had decided to help him. Clearly, this changed things, but Beast was in too much pain to do anything and Belle was still too confused and unsure of what she'd done.

 

Now that he was laying on the bed without the shirt, Belle could see the wounds more clearly. Raw, red and bleeding, graphic reminder her that this was not some spell, some vision, there was someone in there who lived, and breathed and bled. There were several, in his back, arms and on his chest, but the most serious one was in a shoulder, close to the neck. The wolves had really done a number on him.

 

Belle tried to fix him up as best she could. She'd done it for her father quite a few times, and also helped some of the neighbours' children if they got hurt or were sick. But of course none of them had had... the characteristics this beast had. And none of them had been so viciously attacked by a pack of wolves.

 

Handling him could go either way – sometimes he was impossible to manage, a full on nightmare of growls and claws and sometimes Belle just gave up. One thing was not letting him die and another thing was putting up with everything. She was thorough and attentive, she made sure that the wounds were properly tended to but she needed some cooperation.

 

Still, she could understand why he lashed out and growled like that. She'd seen many people complain so much more with less serious injuries (Gaston used to make such fusses for such minor things). The wolves had been forceful, the bites were deep and some of them were likely to get infected. The servants brought her some supplies, and she worked with them, cleaning and bandaging wounds.

 

Sometimes, she watched him while he slept, swallowed up by the blankets, moaning softly when he moved or somebody touched an injured spot... it was almost... endearing. Peaceful, as opposed to the anger his nomrla self kept displaying. It warmed her heart a bit, seeing him so calm, so human, and seeing how much the servants cared about him.

 

The next days that he got a fever, and that mellowness only increased. The angry beast seemed completely gone, a gentle giant on its place. He was docile, sweet, seemed to enjoy her touch and leaned in to it. He seemed nothing like the person who'd imprisoned her, even if it was just the effects of the fever. Somebody with a heart, somebody who'd been hurt too much.

 

As he was hurt now, wounds healing very by little, painstakingly slowly, while his body fought against infection and abuse. For days he stayed without moving from that bed, recovering from the attack. It wasn't pleasant, but he didn't regret his choice. Nor did Belle, even if she worried for her father, she started no longer being worried about herself.

 

A couple of times, Belle found the Beast tossing and turning, breathing unevenly in a restless sleep. On those times, forgetting everything, who they were, how they got there, she forgot everything and just tried to offer some comfort. She would sit on the bed, hush him, sing a lullaby, just stay there until he was a little calmer.

 

This injury had shown her another side of the prince, one she much preferred. She couldn't help but hope that he would stay like this, gentle, soft, when he recovered as well. She wanted to see more of this person who held on to his blankets, smiled in his sleep when he heard her lullabies and hummed under his breath. Maybe there was a warm heart under all those layers of hostility. Maybe there was hope.

 


	4. Chapter 4

For a while everything was okay, both Belle and Adam were in some sort of high cloud, living a dream. The castle's inhabitants were back too, reunited with their families and the prince was back in the good graces of the villagers. Everything was wonderful, the joy, the love, being accepted again, being loved again, having his normal body again. He was happy, and Belle was happy and everyone else was happy. He felt that he was finally allowed to be happy.

 

But of course, perfection is very hard to maintain and after some days a dark cloud started hovering over Adam. He was afraid of going back to his horrible ways, afraid that the worst parts of the monster were still with him, afraid that being succesful and admired again would make him go back to what he was. It was in his nature, it was in his personality, and the effects of the lessons learned is very clear in the beginning, but then, like most memories, it starts to fade. And he would go back to being cruel, and selfish and aggressive.

 

And that couldn't stand.

 

He remembered how horrible he'd been to Maurice, over a simple flower. He remembered how brutal he'd been with Belle those first days and hated himself for it. Endlessly. Not only that, but he almost got all his servants killed, because he'd been shallow and unkind. Actions had consequences, and he couldn't afford any more consequences. He wouldn't fail Belle anymore.

 

So he made an effort, a big long effort not to the prince he once was. No more parties just for himself, only for other people's birthdays and celebrations. He gave away some of his most priced possessions, taught children how to read with the help of Belle. Became a true samaritan, which only increased the townspeople admiration, which only increased his fear. Every time someone complimented him, he felt the shadow of his old self creeping on him. He could go back to that so easily....

 

He gave up the feasts and lavish dinners, too. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how little he deserved all of what he had, while people far more deserving than him had nothing. So the prince started skipping meals or giving the food to other people. All that food was a symbol of he had but hadn't earned for himself. It was unfair.

 

Food was also connected to his life before the curse, where he would have the most lavish dishes prepared so that he and his friends could taste them, and only them. Those feasts, all that food that they ate long after they were full was a sign of exclusivity, of superiority. And he was starting to hate it, it and everything that reminded him of who he'd once been.

 

He was good at hiding how little he ate, skillfull. He pretended to have eaten earlier, or when he was out, and nobody questioned it. If he wasn't eating it was probably because he wasn't hungry, and he wasn't hungry because he'd eaten before. Simple and easy, nothing to worry about. The change was gradual anyways, so when he started losing weight it happened slowly, and as the inhabitants of the castle saw him every day it was more difficult to notice the change.

 

Adam liked getting thinner, felt he was putting distance between the prince that had been and the one that was, the one who knew better. He didn't have paws and fur anymore, but he was different. It was important to him that he was. Not for the others, but for himself – it made him feel good, putting that distance. So he kept doing it.

 

And besides, he could continue wiht his normal life anyways, and nobody noticed, so there really was no downside. He was chatty in social gatherings, kind with kids and eloquent with friends and acquaintances. He invented a good number of excuses as to why he wasn't eating so much, and everyone believed them. Nothing was wrong. He managed to convince himself and everybody of it, and when Belle showed some concern, he explained it in a way that made it seem normal, unimportant. They just were eating at different times because they had both been very busy, that was all. Certainly nothing to worry about.

 

But of course, the human body requires sustenance, and worrisome things started to happen, even if the prince managed to hide most of them pretty decently. He'd learnt to live with a slight light headedness, and his body had slowly but surely got used to eating less, so he wasn't all that hungry anymore. And he did eat, not often and not much, but not too little either (or that was what he told himself).

 

Until one day when the light-headedness became too much. He was discussing books with Belle in the library when everything began to swim, to move around him. He wanted to hold on to something but couldn't, and everything was beginning to grow dark, black spots clouding his vision. The last thing he heard was Belle's voice calling his name in a panic and then lost he lost himself.

 

Belle had known that somethingwas wrong for some time. She had meant to confront Adam about it but didn't know which words to use – and this a very delicate issue, so she wanted to talk about it ina way that wasn't hurtful but expressed the depth of her concern.

 

She also knew that Adam was very good with words and could deny everything and disarm her with eloquence, convincing her that there was nothing to worry about. So she had wanted to be ready for his counterarguments too, so that the problem was adressed and fixed, not just swept under the rug. In the end she'd taken too long to prepare and talk about it – but she had noticed.

 

Her love hardly ate with her anymore, and had become paler and gaunter. His face was bonier too, his features more pronouced than ever, and she'd seen him shirtless and could see the outline of his ribs.

 

There was a resaon for this, she knew. It could be a symptom of some underlying illness, but she suspected it was something more of an emtional nature. The rpince was troubled, and very much so, even if the effects of the curse had long worn off. This could just be another way of sublimating his anxieties – an extremely unhealthy way, sadly.

 

She knew he had a lot in his mind, form his time as beast, form when he was a vain prince before that and even from when he was a child, even if he hardly spoke about it. All those trouble led to that moment.

 

She'd been decided to talk to him, then, in the library, that they were the two of them alone. She had put it off long enough. Between teaching kids how to read, making the castle more her own and the fact that she didn't want to talk about it, she'd waited too long. Too long indeed as Adam passed out before she could bring up the problem.

 

When he came to he was bak in his bed, even though he didn't remember getting there. He found not only Belle looking at him but also Mrs Potts, Chip, Cogsworth and Lumiere.

 

“What...?”

 

“You fainted, in the library. You apparently have quite a case of anemia.”

 

“Well, sorry if I scared. I didn't mean to-”

 

“Stop.” Belle interrupted. “Stop with the excuses and stories and listen to us for a minute.”

 

“We are all very concerned for you, master.” Mrs Potts began, while Chip nodded energetically. “You never eatanymore and you've grown paler and weaker. Every time we make food you refuse it and we don't know how to change that.”

 

Cogsworth followed.

 

“And don't even try to imply that it's not affecting you or that you have it under control. This... incident has clearly shown that you don't control it. It's been too long and it has become a real health issue, maybe even life threatening.”

 

“There must be a reason for this, we don't mind if you don't want to share it with us, but at least talk to Miss Belle. Fix it, before it's too late.”

 

“But I don't...”

 

“You don't have a problem?” Belle said, more than a bit angry. Normally she would have felt bad for interrupting the prince but not now. “You do, honey, and the sooner the admit it, the sooner we can fix it.”

 

Adam was silent.

 

“Please, you need to stop. I will give time to think about it, all right? Before you tell me anything. But whatever reasons you have for doing this, there must be other ways to fix it. And we can, no matter what it is, we can solve it, together. But you can't keep bottling up everything. It's hurting you, and it's hurting us as well.”

 

This was the tipping point. After that day, the prince admitted to having a problem and talked with Belle. He had a long road ahead of him until recovering, but having someone on the way made everything easier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked
> 
> Feedback means the world to this sad little author ;)


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